Sixth Grave on the Edge

He swallowed hard and whispered, the word like brittle paper in the air, thin and so fragile, I was afraid it would crumble before it got to me. But it didn’t. It reverberated in my mind like a crash of thunder.

He looked at me, his eyes round, and said again, “You, Miss Charlotte.”

And there it was.

24

More caffeine!

I’ve got lives to ruin!

—T-SHIRT

Reyes and I lay in our respective beds, our faces centimeters apart, our breaths meeting in the middle, caressing. Though it was past midnight, he’d just showered and smelled clean, his earthy scent rich beneath the sandalwood soap he’d used. His hair, still slightly damp, curled at his cheek and around his ear.

I didn’t get much more out of Rocket, but if I had to die to save the world, so be it. Timing would be an issue, but I planned on enjoying every second I had left with my fiancé.

“Want to come over to my place?” I asked him.

The sparkle in his eyes danced in humor. “I don’t know,” he said. “You live so far away.”

I squeaked as he reached up and slid me down the length of him, caressing my stomach with his mouth as I passed, searing my skin with each kiss. I kissed his stomach back before turning over and curling into his side.

We settled onto his side of the beds. His was much more comfortable than mine anyway. I had no idea how different I’d feel after sleeping on a good mattress. I could totally get used to it.

I had this amazing gift for living in denial. Until I died, I was going to live each day like I had a million more after that one. And that started here and now.

“If we ever get divorced,” I said into his neck as I trailed kisses over his pulse points, “I’m taking you for every mattress you have. Fair warning. You might want to consider a prenup.”

“Are you planning on divorcing me?”

“Not at the moment, but I have a few movie-star crushes I’m still holding out hope for. If any of them call, you will be so yesterday.”

“You know, it’s sad how many movie stars die unexpectedly.”

I gasped and rose so I could gape at him. “You’d kill my crushes?”

“Only the ones that hit on you.”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll tell Brad to stop calling. He’s married, for God’s sake.”

“That would be wise.” He nipped at my earlobe, causing a tingle to bolt through me.

I pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “You bought me a new Jeep,” I said, noting that she’d been doing much better than before my run-in with Mr. Raving Lunatic two weeks prior.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“I figured.”

“Noni did the best he could, but to drive her without completely replacing the frame would have been dangerous. It would have cost more, and you would’ve still had problems in the long run.”

I understood. “Thank you. It’s still Misery. I can feel her in spirit.”

He patted my head like one would when consoling a child. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dutch.”

He made me giggle, but he still needed to be punished for his insolence, so I bit his shoulder. Hard. He sucked in a lungful of air and rolled on top of me. Brushing the hair out of my eyes, he said, “You know, they say that those who know the real name of the grim reaper hold power over him. Or, in this case, her.”

I sobered, suddenly more interested in the conversation than in his delicious shoulders. “They say that?” I asked, wondering what real name he would be referring to.

“Yes.”

“And do you know my real name?”

He propped his head on an elbow and stared down at me. “I do, in fact. I heard it whispered on the voice of every angel in heaven when they sent you.”

“And?” I asked, hopeful. I knew so little about that part of myself.

“You aren’t supposed to hear it until you pass.”

“Pass? Like, away?” I asked, surprised. That could be much sooner than either of us had expected.

“Yes. When you fully become the grim reaper.”

“But you know it now, right? You could tell me.”

He lowered his head. “I’m not sure what knowing it would do. Like I said, there is a power behind it.”

“How can something as arbitrary as a name have power?”

“Your real name is anything but arbitrary. Just remember something, Dutch. You are not of this world. You never will be. Your human existence is just a microsecond in your life. A necessary state of being to ground you on this plane. At first, I thought that was why my father wanted me to wait for you. You can’t just capture a reaper unless you can catch one in human form. There is simply no way to catch a portal otherwise. It’s like trying to grab hold of smoke.”

“You said, at first.”

“Yes. I’m with Swopes. I think Lucifer lied to me and to him. I think there’s more to it; I just don’t know what. Either way, you still have a job waiting for you after your corporeal being ceases to exist. A job that will last centuries.”

“And knowing my name will make me more powerful?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yes. It is part of your transformation. And since your family is so powerful, you even more so, I can’t imagine what knowing it would do.”

“So why are you telling me this now?” I asked. I’d been begging for information like this from him for months.